


The Derelict of The Mojave

by bela013



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-09
Updated: 2018-05-05
Packaged: 2019-03-29 04:32:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13919454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bela013/pseuds/bela013
Summary: A collection of drabbles about the Courier and Mr.House.





	1. Dinner Date

She lights a cigarette before reaching for another book. All around her were piles of old texts about all sort of things. This was her second book of the day, the fifth of the week. She hasn't eaten in almost a whole day, and there is a Mr.Handy buzzing about the penthouse. She fixed him her damned self. She had been so proud. Mr.House installed a new personality on her little robot butler. He told her it was to make him more efficient. She knew it was just so it would be easier for him to spy on her.

Living at the Lucky 38 might have been a fancy prison to anyone else. To her, it was a haven. A balm to the scorching sun of the Mojave. She was free to do whatever as long as she remained loyal to Mr.House. And that was so easy to do, that she didn’t even think twice when he offered a chance to work for him. She already got shot under his employment once, what was a couple more bullets. Plus, he paid really well.

“Ma'am, Mr.House is calling for you” she looks up from her book. The eye pods of the Mr.Handy are all fixated on her. Mr.House suggested that she name it, a pompous name, Alfred, as proper butlers are called. She found that Mr.Handy on a raider camp, almost completely scrapped and with a dick drawn on their chassis. So she called him Richard.

She nods her confirmation, and stands up after marking her page on the book. She could see her reflection on Dicky’s new shiny body. She didn’t look too bad. The grey sweater that she found on the penthouse made her look distinguished. And she knew that Mr.House couldn’t say she was under-dressed. The sweater used to be his anyway.

Her bare feet touch the cold marble floor of the elevator, but she isn’t willing to come back for her slippers. She could always sit with her feet up at the penthouse, so the could shouldn’t matter for too long. She calls out a ‘hello’ to Jane as soon as the doors ding open. And all she gets in return is a flirtatious giggle from the securitron.

“No need to come down, Miss Laura.” House was stiff with formalities, even when he used his scolding voice on her. She had barely touched the first step of the stairs when he called out to her. “We’ll be meeting at the dining table.”

“As you wish, Mr.House” her voice is hoarse from lack of use, and she almost cringes at it. How long has it been since she last spoke? Maybe since her last meeting with House a week ago.

She reaches the dining table, and then she really cringes. The table is set for two. The side by a monitor with House’s face is empty from all the food that pilled up on her side. Now, she’s sure that he programmed Dicky to keep tabs on her for him.

“Don’t try to be stubborn, Miss Laura. Just sit down, fill up your plate, and tell me of your latest project.” it was moments like these that she lamented that all she had of House’s face was a static picture. It was hard to pinpoint what he was feeling, or thinking about if all she had was a voice. Still, she complies, like she always does when he gives her an order.

She stuffs some fresh bread in her mouth, and looks up to his tinted green monitor. It was good, that her boss was just an TV with an attitude. This whole private dinner set up would have been too awkward if he was a flesh and blood man. She sighs in pleasure once she takes a bite of the steak that was served for her.

“Funny, we should talk about my new project at dinner. Because I want to fix the kitchen robots that we have here at the 38.” she takes a sip of water and looks at House’s fixed eyes at the monitor. It was always easier to talk if she looked straight at them. “I don’t feel good eating from the Ultra Luxe. I don’t completely trust their food after the whole meat incident. Even if their food taste delicious.”

“It’s a fine project. And you’ll find that once their mechanical parts are in order, no human chef can surpass the robotic ones from the 38.”

He’s arrogant as always. He always is when she tries to thinker with RobCo. property. He knows his inventions were the top of the line. Made her wonder at how easily he accepted Dicky, into his hotel. But then, he did spend hours raving at General Atomics lack of foresight in their Mr.Handy’s programming while he set a better personality on Dicky.

“I’m glad you approve, Mr.House” she smiles up at the monitor. She knows he looked at her through the many cameras at the casino. But it sure was easier to think of him looking at from those black greenish eyes.

He hums an approving note at her, and she goes back to her meal. All was well at the Lucky 38.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 10/03/2018: A small chapter edit, thanks to WhiteLunchBox for pointing out a small continuity mistake a made. Nothing big that would warrant a reread though.


	2. Sunny Side Up

As an effort to lead a healthier life, she has put up a schedule for her, that include work hours and meal times. As an effort to keep her alive and healthy, Dicky has enforced that schedule with the iron claw of a Mr.Handy. It was how she currently found herself laying on her stomach on the penthouse balcony.

The sun would be too oppressive for anyone whose work used to be all about walking around under it at all hours of the day. The 10 am sun was hot, but not glaring. A typical day at the Mojave. She was sprawled on a towel that Dicky had scavenged and laid out for her. She wasn’t wearing her pipboy, but it was sitting at the floor right next to her, playing soft jazz tunes and had no disc jockey to speak between songs. Sometimes, songs would play two or three times in a row, but the lack of songs with lyrics made it a perfect companion for her reading hours.

The book opened before her wasn’t her usual tech manual, or even one of the more specific journals that she used as inspiration for the personality programming of her projects. It was just a novel. Jane had recommended it to her. She said it was a romance novel. So far, Laura thought it was better as a comedy. Either way, it was proving to be quite the book for some quiet time. And that’s how she stays until the sun gets so high in the sky that not even the upper part of the 38 can cast a shadow on her.

She rises up, gathering all of her things and checking the time on her pipboy. It’s a little past 12. Soon enough, Dicky will show up and nag her into eating the lunch he made for her. She feels that introducing some small tasks into his programming is a good exercise. Sure, his first meal was nothing but burnt toast. But she was getting there. And for someone who didn’t have the same education as Mr.House did, learning how to program as well as she already was, was quite the feat. Even Mr.House said so.

And speaking of her disembodied benefactor, she made sure to wave at his big monitor on her way to her suite. The way he scolded her for not taking care of herself, couldn’t even be called a scolding. But it bothered her, that he, such a well known reclusive had to encourage her to interact more with her surroundings, even if by that, he only meant for her to interact with him more.

Jane comments on her new tan, and Victor greets her by waving his arms as if tipping his hat for her. Up at her suite, Dicky is humming a tune at the kitchen. He doesn’t greet her. The little bastard is completely into House’s control. She couldn't pass a day without her Handy forcing her into actually speaking with him. No more grunting her way into a conversation.

“Good afternoon, Dicky. What do we have for lunch today?” she didn’t knew how, but he appeared to be almost beaming at her. His shiny metal plate twinkling as if he was actually smiling.

“Oh, Miss Laura, you arrived just in time. I got us some nightstalker eggs from the Freeside. And some peppers for seasoning. I hope they are to your liking.” the platter at the table didn’t look like the best she ever had. But it was certainly an improvement for him.

“That’s great, Dicky. I’m glad you’re trying out new recipes.” she sits at the table and picks up a small piece of her scrambled eggs to try their taste. They’re slightly burnt, but the pepper masked that particular taste. “Now that you’re starting to cook, maybe you’ll be interested in starting a small garden. I’m sure Mr.House will be willing to part with some of his space on the penthouse balcony for us.”

“Oh, that is a marvelous idea, Miss! And an outside hobby will sure do you good!”

She laughs at Dicky’s enthusiasms, already thinking up the needed space for a small herbs garden. At least at first. If Dicky was to be an example of what the kitchen robots would need, it would be best for her to not to have to rely on the Freeside for her side project’s supplies. She wasn’t all together comfortable in relying on them for raw ingredients for her food. Laura wonders what it would take to convince House to part with his basement, so she can make it into an indoors greenhouse. Or maybe she could convert one of the apartment floors. It wasn’t like they were ever allowing visitors back into the casino.

She eats. But her mind doesn’t rest. She’s making plans, and wondering if there are any good books about gardening on House’s library, or if she would need to go to the Followers for the knowledge. Maybe they'll appreciate some cultural exchange. She could offer some old medicine texts for whatever information they have about plantation under the scorching sun of the Mojave. The more she thinks about it. The more she warms to the idea. Presenting this project as a try for a fully independent installations for the 38, was a sure way to at least get House to pay attention to her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have some bigger chapters coming up. All of this was all part of a fic I planned to publish as an one-shot thing. But I could never properly connect them, so now I'm putting it all in pieces, after some small editing.


	3. Time Passes

News come from the north. Another charter of the Brotherhood, is raising hell. News come from the south. Democracy it’s still a thing there. At the Mojave at large, House rules unopposed. And here, at the Lucky 38, she is the queen to of an empty castle. She has never been more fulfilled.

At her weekly meeting with Mr.House, he talks about his own projects for hours. She dinnes as he talks, his voice echoes on the speakers that were installed all over the penthouse. She has lived with his disembodied voice and looming portrait for so long, that she could almost picture House as a human man, sitting at the table with her. The sweaters that she nicked from his own wardrobe so long ago, smelled of whiskey and cigarettes. So that’s how she always imagines him. Sitting right in front of her, leaning with his elbows at the table, a whiskey glass in hand, and a cigarette hanging from his lips. She has lived in the penthouse for so long, that humanizing him, was a second nature to her. Once a month, during their meetings, usually the last meeting of the month, he allows her to take the floor. Her  _ monthly reports _ , he calls them, as if he didn’t know exactly what she did at any given time. She explains her progress with the protectrons she turned into the hotel staff, from the cooks to the dry cleaners. And her newest batch of robots, the croupiers. He sees everything in the Lucky 38. And his only advice is for her to observe Jane and Victor. To watch greatness and try to copy it, if she can. His arrogance, even if justified, grated on her sometimes.

Laura has never been stupid. In the past, there were even times where she’d been too smart for her own good. It wasn’t her fault that she could count cards faster than human croupiers could deal them. But now, she’s working for the big boss. She can’t let little card tricks ruin this one time opportunity. House couldn't directly interfere with the other casinos, and by association, neither could she. That meant no gambling, and too much free time on her hands.

Her own croupiers are better. Incomplete, but better. She trains them herself. They learn at every time she cheats them out of money. There were three handcrafted croupiers, each for a game. Blackjack, Caravan and Craps. They are her pride and joy. Her project is practically done. The hardware is complete and she refuses to tinker with that so soon after their inaugural startup. They need time to acclimate themselves to their bodies, and she needs time to clear her own head. The next logical step would be to program personalities into them. And that sounds more like a whole new mountain than a step. She could program simple tasks, but a personality, it’s more like sculpting, than programming. House had been right, recreating something like Jane and Victor, was well beyond her capabilities. For now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Craps is a card game featured in Fallout 2.
> 
> And this is just a small chapter, for two reasons:  
> 1\. I just felt like writing something, but this was all my brain could come up with.  
> 2\. I wanna write some smut for them, but I wanted to offer some more context before I did.


End file.
